


summer squall

by seventhstar



Series: a covenant with a bright blazing star [19]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alpha Katsuki Yuuri, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Regency, Drama, M/M, Marriage of Convenience, Omega Victor Nikiforov, Regency Romance, Unexpected Visitors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-29
Updated: 2018-12-29
Packaged: 2019-09-29 19:40:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17209724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seventhstar/pseuds/seventhstar
Summary: It is a short, violent letter, obviously written with care. Mr. Giacometti clearly wanted Yuuri to know to expect a thrashing. He checks the date on the letter, compares it to today’s. One week has passed.“Excuse me,” Yuuri says.“What is it?”“Oh, nothing.”Viktor frowns at him. “You’re lying.”“Ah…excuse me,” Yuuri says again. He is not going to tell Viktor that a man is here to thrash him; Yuuri deserves it, but he has his pride, and would prefer not to be beaten in front of Viktor.[part of an ongoing series of fics, telling the story of poor and scandalous trademan's son viktor nikiforov's marriage of convenience to the reclusive lord katsuki]





	summer squall

At half past ten, Betsy interrupts breakfast again. Up until the moment she clears her throat, it is the most delightful morning Yuuri can remember since his parents died. Viktor’s spirits are higher than they have ever been; he is eating his third plate of breakfast. Yuuri is too distracted to eat. His coffee has gone cold, watching the jaunty bow Viktor tied in his collar bounce as he swallows.

“Ahem,” Betsy says. She looks as reluctant to interrupt as Yuuri is to acknowledge the interruption. Yuuri suspects Betsy of being in favor of their romance. She probably would prefer that Yuuri sat mooning over Viktor all morning, if only because it bodes well for her future entertainment. But when she came earlier, it was to tell him Dr. Lee had departed, and left a letter stating that Viktor was likely to recover fully. It could be that she has good news again. “Perhaps you’ve a letter this morning, my lord?”

There is a silver salver piled high with correspondence on the table. Yuuri has been avoiding it—he has no idea how he could manage any work today—and he is not expecting any letters of importance today. Truth be told, Yuuri is a dilatory correspondent, always a letter or two in debt to his friends and family. He cannot recall Viktor writing more than two letters in the whole of their marriage. Whether that is because Viktor does not wish to write or because he has no one to write to, Yuuri does not know. Certainly Viktor has received correspondence.

“What sort of letter?”

“I don’t rightly know.”

Recalling the mysterious letter from the Duke, Yuuri swallows. Yuuri can no longer lend that missive any credence, but he has not yet dared to broach its contents with Viktor. _Why should I,_ Yuuri thinks, _it will only pain him._ That it would also cast Yuuri in a poor light, Yuuri is reluctant to admit to himself. Viktor is so close-mouthed about his past that Yuuri is afraid to probe him, and yet he is aware that transparency on Viktor’s side must be met by reciprocation on Yuuri’s own.

He picks through the pile. The first three letters are of business—Yuuri pushes them aside in the hopes that Viktor will not ask about them, as they involve money—the fourth is unusual. The direction has been misspelled, and judging by the sorry state of it, it has been mishandled by the post.

Yuuri opens it.

It is a short, violent letter, obviously written with care. Mr. Giacometti clearly wanted Yuuri to know to expect a thrashing. He checks the date on the letter, compares it to today’s. One week has passed.

“Excuse me,” Yuuri says.

“What is it?”

“Oh, nothing.”

Viktor frowns at him. “You’re lying.”

“Ah…excuse me,” Yuuri says again. He is not going to tell Viktor that a man is here to thrash him; Yuuri deserves it, but he has his pride, and would prefer not to be beaten in front of Viktor.

“Should I—” Viktor pushes his plate away and starts to stand.

Yuuri shakes his head frantically. “No! Please eat.”

He flees the breakfast room before Viktor can say anything else, since lying to him has proven to be an ineffective tactic. Betsy leads him to the front of the house, where the doors are closed securely. Despite that, there is the sound of raised voices audible indoors.

“…is that Withers?”

“There’s an omega here,” Betsy says darkly. “Says he’s his lordship’s friend. French, he is. Rude. I told Withers not to let him in.”

Is his maid supposed to be giving his butler orders? Then again, Yuuri would have wagered money on Withers being too staid to raise his voice and lost it. _Besides, the house functions perfectly well,_ Yuuri thinks, _so clearly there is no need for me to interfere._

“Did he give his name?”

“It was foreign, like. Mr. Giacomodi or whatnot.”

“You pronounce Viktor’s name correctly,” Yuuri says. “Er. I mean his lordship’s name. You can pronounce _my_ name.”

Betsy sniffs.

“I’ll see him,” Yuuri says. “Outside.”

“We can send him away, my lord. He’s no Mrs. Boot-Collins. There won’t be any talk.”

“No, he is truly Viktor’s friend, I had better hear him out.”

“Well, all right,” Betsy says. She does even attempt to hide her skepticism. “But I’ll tell Withers he’s to leave the doors open. If he does attack you we’ll send him off.”

_I should pay her more._

Taking a deep breath, Yuuri reaches for the doors with magic—he’ll want his hands free if he’s suddenly attacked. Yuuri had tried to brawl with a classmate with magic while drunk once. He’d thrown them through a thatched roof and caused such a ruckus that the pub would not serve him for three months.

“You!”

Christophe Giacometti is tall, blonde, and furious; he is holding Withers by the shirtfront. Withers looks deeply offended more than he does frightened. _His wages should also be increased,_ Yuuri thinks.

“Mr. Giacometti, I—”

“Come out, have you? I’m surprised you aren’t hiding behind my friend like the coward you are!”

Yuuri open his mouth, either to confess to being guilty or to protest his innocence, but the words tangle in his throat. All he manages is a strangled yelp before Mr. Giacometti, whose arms are longer than Yuuri expected, drives his fist directly into Yuuri’s face.

 

* * *

 

“Yuuri, you’re bleeding on me.”

“I’m sorry,” Yuuri says.

Viktor’s lack of sympathy is crushing, considering it was his tardiness in writing to Chris that convinced him that Yuuri had clearly murdered Viktor, or at least resorted to some unsavory means to prevent him from writing. While Yuuri holds a handkerchief over his nose, waiting for the bleeding to slow, Viktor and Chris has made themselves comfortable on the sofa beside with a plate of sandwiches and tea.

_I want a sandwich,_ Yuuri thinks wistfully. He is starving.

“I cannot say that I am impressed with your husband,” Chris says. “He seems weak.”

“Either he is a monster who locked me in a convent or he is a weakling, Chris, you cannot have him be both.”

“I do not see why not. Perhaps he restrained you by other means.”

Yuuri snorts—he, restrain Viktor? Viktor could have reduced him to overcooked meat with a thought—and Chris glares at him.

“I have not been restrained by anything but the vagaries of nature,” Viktor says. “I’ve been ill, Chris. You can hardly hold Yuuri responsible for magical fever.”

“I think it was my fault,” Yuuri says. “You went out into the storm because of our….quarrel.”

“What quarrel?”

“Oh, Yuuri. I always want to be outdoors during a storm—don’t I, Chris?”

“He does,” Chris admits. He bites into a sandwich. “Viktor has an odd obsession with them. One of these days, he will be struck by lightning.”

For a moment, Yuuri thinks Chris is making a joke, but then he glimpses Viktor’s face—he’s turned away from Chris, towards Yuuri—his lips pressed together tightly. Chris does not know about Viktor’s talent with lightning. Despite him being the only friend Viktor appears to have, Viktor has not confided in him.

_He did not confide in me, either._

“I can only hope,” Viktor murmurs. He smiles at Yuuri, a private joke that brings heat to Yuuri’s face.

_But he decided to teach me._

“Perhaps,” Chris says, as he gives Yuuri an unpleasant look over Viktor’s shoulder, “we might speak alone.”

“…excuse me.” Yuuri gets up, handkerchief still pressed to his nose. It seems he will have to attend to the pile of letters in the breakfast room after all. Doing his duty to his estate should not feel so onerous, and yet all Yuuri can think is that he looked forward to being with Viktor today, truly being with him without impediment, and now he will not.

_He must be pleased to have his friend here,_ Yuuri tells himself, if only to assuage the sting. _I am glad for him._

Settled in his study with a stack of correspondence, three open ledgers, and an empty stomach, Yuuri cannot say he feels glad. At least his nose has stopped bleeding.

**Author's Note:**

> thinking about having one day a week be the designated regency au update day -- what day do y'all like? i'm thinking monday or friday


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